


Fireside

by woodentarantula



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, idk what to even tag this, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 03:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11199093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woodentarantula/pseuds/woodentarantula
Summary: In the dimming light they share a moment





	Fireside

The light of the campfire flickers over Prompto’s skin as he lays in noctis’s lap, head resting on knees, curled around each other.

They had spent that paste three days crawling through damp and dark caves and had emerged to the blinding light of 2pm and hardly had enough money for a sandwich for each of them, much less a hotel. They’d resolved to rest for a day or two, eat from their stocks and run a few hunts for the cash when they we less tired.

They were all safe, though, for the most part. Noctis and Gladio were both little more than horribly sore but Ignis had rolled his ankle and Prompto had his right hand in a splint. An imp has knocked him over while he was lining up for a shot; he landed hard and broke his finger. A potion rubbed on it when they got back to camp had stopped the swelling but they were afraid to use too much healing magic incase it would set wrong. So the splint stayed till Ignis could look at it again in the morning.

They had bathed in the nearby river. Prompto’s hair laid flat against his head, soft to the touch. Noctis runs his fingers through it, rolling the strands under his thumb, grazing his nails against Prompto’s scalp. Prompto hums happily, poking at his phone left-handed while it lays on the ground.

It’s so often the other way around, it’s kind of nice for Prompto to be the only drifting off in Noctis’s la. His hand trails down Prompto’s ams, resting on the soft underside of his forearm. His freckles run rampant on the pale skin, like stars trapped on his flesh; heavenly. Noctis rubs his thumb back and forth over a cluster of them.

“Ya’know, it’s not gonna get better if you stare at it.” Prompto’s teasing, soft laughter bubbling up between his words.

“I know.” Noctis says, thumbing the leather tangled around Prompto’s wrist, toying with the straps. “Does it hurt when I do that?”

“Nah, the painkillers Iggy gave me are doing their job.”

“That’s good.” Noctis is still staring at the fire, the way the light bounces off Prompto’s hair, casting cutting shadows over his jaw and eyebrows. He slips a finger under one of the bracelets and there’s a brief flash in Prompto’s eyes before he tugs his hand away. “Oh- sorry. Too much?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it.” 

Noctis makes an noise in the back of his throat, unconvinced but accepting it. 

A few minutes drift between Noctis, Prompto, and the crackling fire. The quiet is there but incomplete, the two of them not speaking but always the sound of the fire, the insects flitting about in the night, and the scritch of nails on skin. It’s gentle, but heavy. “I fucked up.” Prompto turns his hand over in the air, inspecting the splint.

“I’ve done stupider shit.” Noctis replies. “Remember that time i tried to combat roll and ended up spraining my neck?”

“Oh yeah!” That was a Cockatrice right? Out by the vesperpool?” Prompto’s eyes widen comically. “Or that time Gladio went to shield you from a trooper and his shield bounced back and hit his jaw? Fuck, he was icing that for weeks!”

“He was so whiny about it too!” Theyre both fighting back laughter but it fights back, bursting out. “And- and that time Ignis tried to kick a dagger at a killer bee and it flipped back and hit him in the face?”

“Shit!” Prompto laughs, rolling over, trying to stifle his laughs with his hand. “And he tried to act all cool about it but he had a bruise right in the middle of his forehead.” 

They keep laughing, trying to take in great breaths of air and failing terribly, till eventually silence settles back between them. They return to their original position but now Noctis is bent over, nose buried in Prompto’s hair. Prompto accepts it, reaching back with his uninjured hand, tangling his fingers in the dark strands. 

It’s muffled in Prompto’s hair but Noctis needs to say it. “You’re not a fuck up.”

“I’ll try to remember that.” There’s a waiver in Prompto’s voice and he pulls just a little bit on Noctis’s hair.

“Good.” Noctis shifts, sliding his fingers back to Prompto’s wrist to mess with the cluster of bracelets, careful not to lift the little straps. “I’ll tell you again- as many times as you need to hear it.”

Prompto’s voice is choked, holding back a sob. “Thanks, man. “ he scrubs a thumb over Noctis’s scalp. “Thanks.”

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
